


What If

by theresnoreason



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresnoreason/pseuds/theresnoreason
Summary: “What about…” he begins, the thought already weird, feeling even weirder as the words leave his mouth, “Living long enough to retire?”  He could practically hear the utter confusion on Hanzo’s face.  Like the possibility never even occurred to him and the fact McCree even gave it thought was absurdly optimistic.“Something that typically doesn’t happen for anyone in our line of work.”“Feels weird to even consider sometimes, yeah.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> First Overwatch fic and first piece of writing in a long LONG time. A little nervous about it, but I just like the idea of them talking about a life after Overwatch and fighting and stuff. I do have a bigger McHanzo fic in mind, but if anyone has any advice on characterizing them or just writing interactions between all the characters (often forgotten info and junk) let me know.

In the early hours of the morning, it wasn’t rare for McCree and Hanzo to be found sprawled in the common room, a cigar clasped between McCree’s teeth, both looking up at the ceiling as they exchanged words quietly. It was a strangely intimate moment shared by them, continuing even when other agents shuffled through, hastily leaving after realizing they were there. Despite it being a common space, something about the two men lying across from each other on the floor, talking about things ranging from trivial nonsense to some heavy discussion felt like it wasn’t meant for anyone else to overhear.

Especially when the topic turned to the rest of their lives.

“Hanzo,” McCree starts thoughtfully, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “Y’ever think about if Overwatch is disbanded again?”

“Occasionally,” he says at length, “I’ve found dwelling on the future is about as useful as dwelling on the past.”

“Sweetheart, you let your past dictate your future more’n half the time,” McCree says with a brief chuckle. Hanzo lets out an embarrassed grunt of acknowledgement.

“Irrelevant.”

“But, ideally, somethin like Overwatch should eventually be disbanded,” McCree continues, “Yaknow, a world where we ain’t needed anymore. Honest to god not needed.”

“True. Though realistically speaking, something like Overwatch will always be needed,” Hanzo counters, “Disbandment would likely be under similar circumstances as the first time.”

“True, indeed,” McCree takes a pull from his cigar, tapping the ash off in a nearby cup. There is a pause, smoke curling lazily above them as he exhales.

“What about…” he begins, the thought already weird, feeling even weirder as the words leave his mouth, “Living long enough to retire?” He could practically hear the utter confusion on Hanzo’s face. Like the possibility never even occurred to him and the fact McCree even gave it thought was absurdly optimistic.

“Something that typically doesn’t happen for anyone in our line of work.”

“Feels weird to even consider sometimes, yeah,” he admits. Hanzo hums in agreement again.

He tilts his head back to look at McCree also sprawled on the floor. He’s already looking back at Hanzo.

“But what if. Indulge me, darlin,” he says. He doesn’t look intent or grave about the possibility, only curious, something he’d like to consider. Something he’d like to look forward to, Hanzo realizes. He also realizes life after fighting and killing is something he’d like to consider too.

“Disbanded or retiring,” he starts, a dull heat of embarrassment rising to his face, “I will say… I’d like to spend that time together,” he turns his gaze back to the ceiling, catching the warm smile breaking out on McCree’s face.

“Glad we’re on the same page there,” he says, also looking back up at the ceiling. In the following silence, a hand taps against his shoulder, loose fingers slid over the floor seeking him. Without missing a beat, he slides his hand into Hanzo’s, threading their fingers the best he can manage. The silence settled over them again, the possibility of a future to build themselves slim, but one to look forward to nonetheless.

“We should get married,” McCree says thoughtfully. Hanzo huffs a small laugh, McCree grinning at the sound.

“Beyond optimistic and into the truly absurd hypotheticals, I see.”

“Aww, Hanzo, you’re breakin my heart here, turning me down so fast,” his tone nothing if not fond.

“I didn’t say we shouldn’t,” Hanzo says, finally turning over to look down at the cowboy, their hands still loosely tangled together, “If we live that long, let’s get married. Why not?” He can’t help the matching smile that he gives McCree.

“It’s a plan then,” he says, pretending the idea doesn’t leave him at least a little misty eyed. Hanzo leans down, the two indulging in an upside down kiss, in agreement about their unlikely but nonetheless hopeful future.


End file.
